


Lessons

by FrodaB



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrodaB/pseuds/FrodaB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Have you ever fired a gun?"<br/>"No..."<br/>"You've never even held one, have you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the inception_kink prompt: _After the Fischer Job, Arthur tells Ariadne that if she's going to stay on with the team, she should learn how to use a gun- for her own protection, etc. Dreamworld gun range UST touching as Arthur teaches her how. (Ideally leading to sex, but hey, I'm easy.)_

She crosses her arms over her chest. "What's this all about? I thought the lessons were over. I know how to build."

Arthur, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, tosses her a pair of sound-canceling headphones. She catches them, surprised. "We're not building anything today. Have you ever fired a gun?"

"No..."

"You've never even held one, have you?"

She presses her lips tightly together. That's all the answer he needs.

"You have to learn. Sometimes, a job gets done without any problems. But there aren't many people out there who _want_ thieves to break into their minds and steal from them."

Ariadne has always been a vivid dreamer, but she has never once dreamed about holding a gun in her hands. It feels heavy and cold. Arthur watches her with a jaundiced eye, giving her directions.

"Feet shoulder-width apart. Both eyes open. Point, sight, fire."

The first shot startles her so much, it jerks her arm and she drops the gun. She feels like she pulled a muscle.

"You're too tense. Breathe." 

He puts the gun back in her hands, and then it's even more difficult to breathe than it was before, because his hands run up her arms, pausing to press gently on the inside of her elbow. Arthur is so close, she could turn her head and lick his neck if she wanted to.

And he seems oblivious, moving to stand behind her and place his hands on her hips. 

"Again."

Somehow, somehow, she manages to fire the gun, not drop it, not hurt herself or Arthur, _and_ hit the target. Barely.

"Good. Again."

She feels so awkward, holding the gun in both hands, while Arthur stands there, always watching. He never misses a detail, so she knows he can tell how nervous she is, how much her palms are sweating as she fires several more rounds at the paper target.

Occasionally, he'll reach out and touch her arm, her shoulder or hip to correct her stance, or give her advice. His hand is warm, and distracting.

"Try with one hand," he says, so she does, but then his hand is at the small of her back and she gets so flustered that the shot misses the target completely.

Ariadne is starting to wonder if he's doing this on purpose. But she bites her lip and mutters an apology.

"Here." He takes the gun from her and nudges her aside. His body changes when he holds the gun, certain muscles relaxing and others going taut, his back a straight line, emphasizing the crisp folds of his suit. He fires two rounds, one to the head and one to the heart of the target, then presses the gun back into her hand.

"You'll have to keep practicing. The only way to get it right is to keep doing it until it's all reflex and muscle memory. That's how you keep your head when the heat is on."

Then he begins to show her how to load a clip into the gun, take it apart and clean it. He explains that while in the dream, it's not really necessary, it's still a good idea to know exactly how it works and what goes where.

"Have you ever been shot at in reality?" she asks, and his hands pause on the cold black metal, deft fingers stilling for a moment.

"Yes," he says, and then he takes one of her hands, guiding it so she can learn.

But Ariadne squeezes his wrist, hard, and he looks at her, a little startled. Her skin still tingles from all the places he kept touching her - shoulders, arms, hips - and she can see little flecks of amber in his eyes. 

She kisses him, and then she knows he has not been oblivious. He _was_ doing it all on purpose.

The timer runs out, just as she's pulling at the buttons on his shirt, and then they are back in the warehouse, the big cavernous space and ten feet between them that feels like a mile.

Arthur is all hard lines against her, and when he says her name, his voice is rough-edged in a way she's never heard before, and all she can do is cling to him as he perches her on the edge of a table.

He makes her fall apart with his head between her thighs, doing things with his tongue that not even she ever imagined. When he stands, and kisses her again, and she can taste herself in his mouth, she actually _whimpers_ because if he's not inside her in the next five seconds the world will definitely come undone at the seams.

Which is why he fucks her, pants down around his thighs and her panties just shoved to one side and her shoes still on as she grips his shoulder with one hand and the edge of the table with the other to get more leverage, to arch herself up, driving him deeper.

She comes again, makes a keening sound as she looks up at the bare rafters above them, and he grunts and stills, and then there is nothing left but the sound of their ragged breathing.

"I take it that was a good start?" Ariadne asks after a moment or two, and Arthur's only answer is a half-smile.


End file.
